Claustrophobic
by lensestothestars
Summary: Irwin Dexter has always despised Lee Ping - or has he? What exactly prompted Lee to break away from the Mathletes, and why is Irwin so determined to best Lee at everything he does? Perhaps a little confrontation is in order. Slash.


He was a master of his own mind, and he knew it. He could grasp mathematics with nary a blink of an eyelid and breathe life into it when he scribbled down his calculations onto a chalkboard; he could allow his lips to bend to the will of his brain and allow a constant stream of witty yet admittedly snarky comments to roll from his tongue; and he could deflect any unwarranted advances his emotions decided to throw at him whenever his basic instincts decided he was attracted to someone.

At least, until he met Lee Ping.

They were younger then, of course, but even now Irwin still felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth when he pictured that slim form swamped in the traditional Mathletes garb, making jokey complaints about the itchiness of the uniform with thin arms awkwardly covering up the addition sign emblazoned on the chest. When they first met, Lee had been so much shyer; so much more on Irwin's level. In fact, it was that very trait that drew him to the red-head.

The Mathletes were very much an outcast group, and having someone actually request to join rather than be targeted after a display of brilliance during class was a rarity. Of course, at first, Irwin had had his doubts. Honestly, none of the other Mathletes were all that brilliant: they had merely been favoured by their teachers for having mathematical potential, for having slight left-brain dominance. He craved some _real _talent, someone who he could finally call an intellectual equal. Lee, in his typical way of over-achieving without recognizing it, didn't just become Irwin's intellectual equal. He became his superior the minute his hand curved around a piece of chalk.

Irwin hadn't _intended_ to fall for Lee. Attraction was something that he had always avoided. Inherently, he knew of his own attraction to the male gender if only for physical stimulus, but at heart he knew he wouldn't last a day with a partner who was a pretty picture but empty from the neck up. Because of this denial of his own needs, however, Lee soon became ingrained into his mind – he was both gorgeous and clever, a delightfully rare package that Irwin did not want to give up without a fight.

It was slow. A quick, knowing smirk shared between them during Math class whilst their fellow students scratched their heads. The tendency to always make sure to sit next to each other in every class that they did share, and at lunch; during their group sessions; on the bus. All of the things that people expected best friends to do; all of the things that were considered normal. But soon, Irwin knew there was something more to it. Lee's occasional glance upwards from his laptop made Irwin's heart give a jolt; an accidental brushing of hands would open a floodgate of blood to his ears and cheeks. Such extremes were beginning to catch Lee's notice, Irwin could tell. But he just couldn't face the idea of Lee leaving. He couldn't allow it.

Eventually, he took the safest precaution he could. He started the argument: it was his fault that Lee left the Mathletes. After Lee was gone Irwin tried to tell himself that he didn't care, that Lee was worthless and that he didn't deserve to be with the Mathletes, but even Irwin's ego couldn't hold up such an extravagant, terrible lie. He had done it to be selfish; all he wanted was to keep Lee pure. It was better to admire him from afar whilst hating his brilliance, where no one would suspect him.

The act was starting to catch up with him, though. His obsession with Lee was disturbing even his fellow Mathletes, all of whom just as jealous of Lee's abilities as Irwin was. The whole envy act wasn't enough to account for what was slowly becoming an addiction. Once again, Irwin had to appreciate Lee's ingenuity; being framed for his prank and having a valid excuse to hate him again was a godsend. Of course, he had ended up lumbered with the others, and forced into the 'Down with Lee Club', but he had no choice, really. He had to be the one who had started the club; he had to be the one who did the worst things to Lee; he had to be the most dedicated member, or people would suspect. What else could he do but attempt to prank Lee even harder than the other members?

And that's how he had ended up in this perfectly stupid situation: on the run from Barrage with his jumper torn practically in two from innumerable cat scratches and the principal's unmistakable idiomatic bellows ringing in his ears.

Irwin skidded around a corner, sensible shoes slick on the linoleum, and grasped onto the corner of the wall, asthma tearing raggedly at his lungs. Gasps rattled his fragile ribcage like wind through a bone chime; if Barrage wasn't on him within seconds, the Cleaners would be. Still trying to catch his breath he dragged his hands along the wall, forcing himself to continue walking. The cool metal of the lockers soon graced his fingertips, and by a glance at the numbers on them, he saw salvation: there was a storage cupboard at the end of the locker block. He made a final dash for the door. Just as the whirr of the Cleaners pricked his hearing he yanked the door open, leapt inside and slammed it shut. Safe at last.

"Irwin?"

Irwin froze. Blood thrummed in his ears as he tried to make sense of what he had just heard. Surely that wasn't…?

But his fears were confirmed when a second, "Irwin!" came from behind him, this time in confirmation. Heart hammering, Irwin spun around and backed up against the door he had just punched through, eyes darting around frantically for the voice's owner. Lee's dark eyes were the first to make themselves known under the pitiful little glow of some old lamp that rested on one of the shelves.

Before Irwin even had a chance to squeak out a reply, Lee pressed a finger to his lips and leaned down to the door's keyhole. He listened for a moment, then straightened up and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Jeez, this place has saved me so many times," Lee said, more to himself than to Irwin. Then, seemingly coming to his senses, he rounded on Irwin with a fierce whisper. "What are you doing running from Barrage?"

Come on now, Irwin, you can't let your nerves get the best of you right now. "What's it to you?" Irwin spat, folding his arms as nonchalantly as he could across the tattered remains of his jumper. A wheeze escaped his throat as he did so, and he clutched at his chest, trying to conceal his weakness from Lee.

Lee raised his arms in mock-surrender. "Okay, calm down! I just want to know why Barrage is chasing me – it's got to have something to do with you, he's chasing you too."

The space between them was scant, and Irwin was finding it very difficult to concentrate on Lee's words. The cupboard was so small that he could practically feel Lee's breath on his face with every word he took; he had to get out, and fast.

"I don't have time for this," said Irwin. He grasped the door handle and pulled, ready to dash away as soon as it gave way – but the opportunity didn't present itself. Irwin tugged at the door once more, and shoved at it with his shoulder for good measure, but nothing happened. "Oh, no."

"Here, let me." Lee brushed up against Irwin and tried to force the door himself, but to no avail. Irwin backed up against the shelves like had been scorched, trying to stay as far away from Lee as possible. Around other people, like the Mathletes or other classmates, Irwin could uphold his snarky bravado with evident ease. When there was no one around that could feed his ego, no one other than the one person he looked up to as nothing less than a creature crafted from the finest of materials, he broke.

"Well?" Irwin managed, not allowing his voice to crack.

Lee turned back to him, frown etched into his face. "Yeah. We're stuck."

An awkward silence ensued during which Irwin pointedly kept his gaze fixed on the floor in response to Lee's own burning gaze. Irwin knew Lee was staring at him; there wasn't anything else to look at, so small was the cupboard. After a few minutes Irwin sank down to the floor, hugging his knees and trying to calm himself down. It wasn't that big a deal, he told himself. It was after school already – eventually Barrage would go home, and even the Cleaners had to have lives outside of A. Nigma High. When that time came they wouldn't have to be so quiet, and would be able to break open the door.

At least, it wouldn't have been that big a deal if Lee hadn't chosen to sit down too. Irwin allowed himself a glance up: Lee's damned eyes were soft, almost concerned, as they scanned Irwin's face. This did nothing to help Irwin's breathing; if anything, it only became more erratic.

"Are you claustrophobic?" Lee asked.

Yes – thank you, Lee! Irwin nodded. The perfect cover up – flushed skin, dilated pupils and difficulty breathing were all perfectly valid symptoms of claustrophobia. "I'll be fine," Irwin wheezed, playing up his sparse oxygen levels for all it was worth. He closed his eyes and exhaled, trying to make it seem like he was calming himself down.

He thought he'd gotten away scot-free until he felt hands upon his chest. Irwin's eyes shot open to find Lee kneeling over him, dragging off what had once been his Mathletes jumper.

"W-what're you doing?" Irwin squeaked.

"I'm helping you," said Lee, working at the threads. "I mean, even if we don't get on very well, it's horrible for anyone to have to confront their fears. Getting you some air is the least I can do."

The sensation of Lee's deft, laptop-trained fingers trailing over Irwin's chest made him shiver ever so slightly. He tried to maintain his composure, tried not to let loose the small noise of pleasure that was growing at the back of his throat, and silently thanked the scarcity of the light. His face was glowing.

"You didn't have to do that," said Irwin when Lee had finally pulled the last of the jumper from his weakened limbs.  
Lee shrugged. "We're going to be stuck in here for a while, and you need to calm down. How about we reconcile, just for a bit?"

It would have been so very easy for Irwin to just say no, for him to sit in stubborn, red-faced silence whilst determinedly keeping his eyes away from Lee. But, of course, being with Lee, he simply couldn't resist taking a look up. Lee's earnest face illuminated only slightly by the little light that there was sent the most potent demands of desire rushing through his blood. How could one person be so damn _beautiful_ in all meanings of the word without even realizing it? "If…if we must."

Lee settled himself back against the door. "So," he started, "I'm going to take the first step here. You were the one who pulled the chili powder manoeuvre?"

That particular incident had occurred only a few hours ago, and was the very reason why Principal Barrage was out for Irwin's blood. It had been quite an ingenious idea, actually: one that Lynch wasn't able to pull off properly so he gave it to Irwin, not knowing who he would blame it on. The idea was to add chili powder to all of the Green Apple Splat tanks in the drinking fountains throughout the school. The prank itself had Lee Ping written all over it, as it was known that he never drank the stuff, unlike everyone else in school. Unfortunately for Irwin, Principal Barrage also had a dislike for the drink, and had been attempting to dismantle the tanks himself at the same time as the sabotage. Irwin did manage to fill most of the tanks, but a spillage at one of the last tanks caused Barrage's cybernetic parts to malfunction, and, well…the rest is self-explanatory.

Irwin nodded.

"Why?"

What the hell was he _supposed _to say? That he felt an insatiable desire to constantly make Lee miserable in order to feel superior to him, to stay close to him and to prevent anyone else from finding out how he really felt? Irwin settled for, "The Club has its rules. We hate you, so we do whatever we can to make you feel bad."

Lee blinked. "Yet you totally discount that I've just helped you?"

"What're you talking about?" Irwin realized his mistake too late, however. Seeing Lee's eyes narrow, he hurriedly said, "Wait, I mean-"

He was cut off by Lee, who knelt forward and pressed two of his fingers underneath Irwin's collar. A strangled gasp escaped Irwin's throat, and his face flooded with heat, now staring up into the Lee's dark, determined eyes. With that same dexterity that never failed to make Irwin marvel, Lee slipped his fingers out from under the collar to Irwin's tie. Steadily, he loosened it, watching carefully for Irwin's reaction.

Irwin's attempt to retain his normal breathing pattern was admirable, but with the face that he constantly saw in his dreams mere inches away from his, it was pointless. He licked his dry lips, trying not to let his face falter. If he could have spoken, he would have, but his vocal chords had decided to cut themselves and leave his only method of communication down to his sharp breathing and the hammering in his chest.

Either one of them could have moved first. The movement was so quick that neither paused for breath before diving straight in. Mouth clashed on mouth as Lee's fingers entangled themselves in Irwin's hair, with Irwin's own hands slipping readily around Lee's waist. This was not a kiss of mere passing interest – this was one cultivated on years of alternating friendship, hate, admiration and angst. Dominating Irwin's smaller, skinnier frame with ease, Lee straddled Irwin's legs as he worked on his lower lip. He allowed his teeth to graze the lip which made Irwin gasp against his mouth, an opportunity which Lee took readily. His tongue sliced across the thin metal of Irwin's brace and slid along his teeth, bringing the slightly metallic taste of blood to the forefront of his taste. The amount of emotions screaming through Irwin's mind at that moment were uncountable. Love, fear, hate, admiration, exhilaration and a million others pierced his blood as he latched his digits onto Lee's back, clinging onto him for dear life.

When they did find themselves so deprived of air that they had to break apart, they were both in a state. In the clash Lee had torn at Irwin's shirt, ripping two of the buttons from the top, and his fingers in Irwin's ever-neat hair had mussed it well. Lee's own shirt had ridden half up his back from Irwin's pulling, and his own red-black spikes were fluffy with static.

Lee gave Irwin a careful, calculating look, wiping a little saliva from his mouth. Irwin was still blushing terribly, so much so that he was certain it would leave a lasting impression on his skin. Both he and Lee were breathing heavily.

After a few moments of staring at each other, Irwin asked, "What?"

Lee grinned at him. "You're not claustrophobic, then?"

Irwin looked at Lee, and then burst out into peals of laughter. He pulled Lee in for a hug, burying his face into the other's neck. "No," he mumbled, still laughing. "No, I'm not."


End file.
